


(this one) to the grave

by darkangel0410



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 17:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/pseuds/darkangel0410
Summary: A moonstruck wolf will turn their back on everything, will focus all they are on whatever human has captured their heart. It never ends well, for the human or the wolf. Eventually, they will revert back to their natures, and it’s not in them to be compatible with each other.John knows this better than most wolves.





	(this one) to the grave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waffles_007](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waffles_007/gifts).



> For my bae 😘😘😘 I told her I'd write some werewolf John Tavares and here it is, however many months later. Hope you like it!
> 
> See end notes for spoilers that I wasn't sure how to tag.

John waits until early October before he starts classes; it’s easier that way, the first rush of school over and everyone settled in, so there’s less frantic activity and his wolf can adapt to being around so many humans again.

It’s always a challenge, going back to human territory after he’s been home for so long; they’re too loud, too confusing, too dangerous for him to be completely calm around. It would be easier, maybe, if John hated them, but he doesn’t. They’re what they’re meant to be, just like he is. Might as well get mad at birds for flying or deer for running. Everyone has to follow their nature: wolf, animal or human, and to expect otherwise would be the definition of insanity. 

And, except in very specific cases, wolves didn’t succumb to insanity that often.

*

There’s a special kind of insanity that happens when a wolf is alone among humans for too long, when they forget how inherently dangerous humans are to them. It doesn't occur too often, wolves tend to keep to themselves and even ones who live among humans instinctively know better than to trust them.

But sometimes a wolf will forget all common sense, forget how dangerous humans are even without claws and fangs, forget that there’s good reasons why all wolves are warned away from humans from the time they learn how to crawl to the day they die. 

They call it being moonstruck, because the first time a wolf gave into this kind of insanity and fell in love with a human was when an alpha wolf saw a human woman walking through the woods in the moonlight. 

A moonstruck wolf will turn their back on everything, will focus all they are on whatever human has captured their heart. It never ends well, for the human or the wolf. Eventually, they will revert back to their natures, and it’s not in them to be compatible with each other. 

John knows this better than most wolves.

*

He sees Chris for the first time during chem lab, about a week after he starts classes. 

John’s cranky to begin with, not happy with the scents surrounding him, chemical and cloying, heavy and metallic on his tongue, and it’s hard to concentrate when everything smells so _fakewrong_. 

He scents Chris before he sees him, the cool taste of outside still clinging to his clothes, along with coffee and french fries, with the undeniable human scent underneath it all, and it makes John’s wolf focus on him instantly, with the kind of intensity that usually isn’t there unless John’s in his wolf-skin stalking prey. 

John has to swallow down the growl that wants to get out and grit his teeth to keep them blunt and human; force down his wolf who wants out, wants to chase whoever the scent belongs to and pin them down, _bite_ them. It’s the most violent reaction to a human that John’s ever had before and when Chris comes into the classroom, an apology to the teacher for being late on his lips, John stares at him, suddenly understanding why his wolf wants to pounce, wants to hunt this person in front of him. 

John knows he should leave the class and probably college altogether, go back to his pack, let himself be surrounded by wolves again, back where he belongs. But his wolf doesn’t want to leave, not until they get what they want, and John’s in perfect agreement. 

For the first time in his life, John thinks he understands a little bit how his mother must have felt all those years ago.

*

“Hey, can I sit here?”

John looks up at the words, has to swallow down the automatic growl in his throat at being interrupted in the middle of eating, and then has to force himself to stay still when his wolf quivers with interest at who’s talking to them; John knew Chris was in the cafeteria, had scented him as soon as he had walked in, but he hadn’t expected him to come sit by him.

John waits until he swallows the mouthful of food he has, says, “Sure,” and hopes his voice doesn’t give away how viciously pleased both he and his wolf are at having Chris within biting distance. 

“I saw you in chem lab this morning,” Chris says, opening his drink and taking a couple sips before he goes on, “my name’s Chris.”

He holds out his hand and John knows what he should do, but he wants to touch Chris, feel his skin, and his wolf is almost vibrating with eagerness to touch the person across from them. “John,” he tells him, shaking his hand for what feels like an eternity and even still it ends sooner than his wolf wants.

Chris seems content not talking, just eating his food and occasionally typing something out on his phone; John is aware of every move he makes, the way his scent spikes and then mellows out while they’re eating, how he smells so fragile, so _human_ and still it makes John want to shift into his wolf-skin and stalk Chris until he’s sweaty and out of breath, easy prey for them to take down and do what they want to.

John’s not sure what he wants with Chris, if he wants to eat him or fuck him, only that there’s so much need and want and _hunger_ tangled up inside him for Chris that he feels like he’s going to explode into a flurry of violent frenzy if he stays in his company for too long. But he also doesn’t want to leave, too fascinated with this human to make himself get up and leave even if he knows it’s what’s best for him and his wolf.

His whole life John’s been told that he was the spitting image of his father, right down to his wolf’s brown and white fur, but maybe he’s more like his mother than he wants to believe.

*

They have lunch together every day for the rest of the week; Chris is always the one that starts the conversation, satisfied with John’s one-word answers and grunts whenever there’s a pause. 

Spending that much time together only makes John want _more_ , his wolf still fascinated with this human that’s captured their attention. 

The full moon is only a few days away and John knows he needs to stay away from the school that night, no matter how much his wolf snarls at the idea; if he’s in his wolf-skin and catches Chris’s scent when his control’s already weak, it could bring disaster down on not just him, but his pack, too. And every other wolf in the state.

John doesn’t know what it says about him that it’s still a struggle to leave school grounds that weekend, that even after he’s miles away his wolf still spends the night prowling around trying to scent Chris. 

Part of him wishes he hadn’t left, that he had stayed so he could stalk Chris with the moon full and bright in the sky and the thrill of the hunt singing in his veins. 

John’s never pretended to be human, but he feels every inch an animal with the things he wants to do to Chris.

*

John sees Chris across campus on his way to class the next morning; there's too many people around for his wolf to catch his scent, but they both watch Chris while he walks away and John has to stop himself from following him, stalking him like he's prey. His wolf snarls at the restraint, presses against John's control and it's a harder battle than John wants to admit to turn in the opposite direction and continue on his way.

*

“There's a new bar in the square,” Chris tells him at lunch; they're by themselves again, tucked in the corner of the cafeteria and while Chris waves to people he knows as they walk by, he seems content to sit here with John in silence more often than not.

It makes John's wolf growl happily, that this human prefers their company to his own kind, and it quivers with the knowledge that it makes Chris more vulnerable, easier to isolate and hunt down. Easier to hurt.

“They have open mic night on Wednesday, a couple of us are going to go sing some covers or something,” he goes on, oblivious to the struggle John's having to stop himself from just _taking_ what he wants. “You should stop by if you're not busy.”

John knows that he shouldn't go, shouldn't seek out even more time spent in Chris's company, but it's not a surprise when temptation wins out over common sense. “Maybe I’ll bring my guitar.”

“You play?” Chris asks, desire creeping into his usual scent.

John bares his teeth in an approximation of a smile. “Some. I'm not Hendrix or anything, but I know a few songs.”

“Oh, man, now you have to come,” he tells John, grinning and punching his arm playfully, “I have to see mad, bad and dangerous to know playing a guitar and singing.”

“English majors,” John scoffs and rolls his eyes before he goes back to eating his food; his wolf pushes against his skin, eager to get out and hunt, to take until there's nothing left.

John's acutely aware of how easy it would be to let his wolf do what they both wanted and how badly it could turn out for Chris if he loses control. 

He's just not sure he cares anymore.

*

The bar is crowded, bodies pressed together and so many strong scents that John has to breathe through his nose for a few minutes to get used to it while he moves through the crowd; it's not as hard as it could be, a lot of people instinctively move out of his way, their subconscious warning them to get away from the predator in the room even if they don't realize what they're doing.

He puts his name on the list that's on the fold-up table by the makeshift stage, noting who's in front of him before he goes to wait outside for his turn. His guitar’s exactly where he left it, in a battered case leaning against the wall in the alley behind the bar.

John stays there for the next hour or so, content to be by himself for now; his wolf comes to attention when they hear Chris’s voice coming down the street, easily distinguishable from all the other noise that’s around them. 

He can't catch Chris's scent from where he is, but John knows it like he knows the scent of home and pack, something that he’ll never forget, even if he goes scent-blind. His wolf is tense and alert now, the easy mood from a few minutes ago gone like it was never there.

John waits a few seconds and picks up his guitar case before he follows Chris inside, careful to stay out of sight; he settles in one of the corners close to the exit, the light dim enough to keep him mostly hidden if Chris looked over.

John's not sure how long he waits for his turn, his attention focused on where Chris is laughing and talking to his friends. He swallows a possessive growl when Chris throws his head back and laughs, his wolf presses against his skin, almost desperate to bite at Chris's neck and mark him as theirs.

He takes a step away from the wall, intent on going to Chris when he hears his name being called; it takes a second to clear his head, to make sense of the words being spoken to him.

John ducks his head, feigning stage fright while he gets control of himself; by the time he makes it to the small stage he feels better, less like his wolf's is going to force a shift and hunt down Chris in the middle of the crowd.

He takes a deep breath and moves the mic a little bit, then opens the case and settles the guitar strap over his shoulders, the old acoustic a familiar weight in his hands.

John looks through the crowd and focuses on Chris, his wolf still too close to the surface for comfort and his voice comes out low and rough when he starts singing.

“Hey, there, little red riding hood, you sure are looking good,” John sings, the chords familiar and easy even though it's been almost a year since he last played; he's only paying attention to Chris, focused on him with the intensity of a predator stalking it's chosen prey. “You're everything a big bad wolf could want.”

Objectively, it's kind of a ridiculous song, corny lyrics from the seventies that are meant to be a joke, but with Chris right in front of him, it feels like anything but. 

His wolf stretches under his skin, tries to shake off the control John's exerting and chase Chris down, pin him to the ground and take what they both want.

John's not sure why he ever hesitated in the first place, not when Chris is flushed and grinning, eyes bright and fixed on John; his scent’s all but covered up in the mass group of people, but John knows what he smells like now, knows it better than almost anything else.

And once a wolf knows your scent, they never forget it, not even when you wish they would.

John almost wants Chris to run from him, the idea of chasing him down and catching him appealing to the parts of him that are all wolf.

He wonders what Chris will taste like when he finally sinks his teeth into his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> John has a lot of violent reactions and feelings towards Chris in this, most notably that his wolf wants to hunt Chris down, John's not sure if it's fuck him or eat him, and it's left up to the reader which one it ultimately is, but it's a main theme throughout the fic.


End file.
